Be Good or Be Good at It
by DonnaJossee
Summary: "Coffee's your best friend, whiskey is your fuck-buddy, and drugs? Well, drugs are your bat-shit crazy ex, Tina. Stay the fuck away from Tina. Something else you don't mess with, relationships. Love is just a different side of Tina. And we've already established you don't need to associate with that bitch." (Johnny Frost/OC)
1. Prologue

_**Be Good or Be Good at It**_

 _Fuck._

 _That's the only word that comes to mind when some crazy shit happens._

 _You win the lottery, "Holly fuck."_

 _You catch your dad boning your mom's best friend, "what the fuck."_

 _You almost die, "oh, fuck."_

 _I can't speak very much on the first two scenarios because, well, I've never bought a lottery ticket a day in my whiskey induced life, and because my old man ran out on my mom when he found out she was knocked up with me._

 _But I've seen my life flash before my eyes, and I've looked the Devil in his blue eyes every damn day since then._

 _So, you can't help but wonder, how the living hell did you end up where you are now? Working for who you work for, doing the crazy-ass shit you do?_

 _And the answer is simply: fuck._

 _. . . As in the fuck if I know._

 _I can barely remember what happens sometimes, shit moves so damn fast so it doesn't surprise me that I can't remember how exactly I got myself into Joker's "favorites". All I know is he's nice to me because I respect him and don't talk back like a little bitch. Thus keeping me alive this long in his presence. I know the rules, I catch onto shit quick._

 _I know you gotta be fast if you're gonna work for The Joker. You can't walk in prepared for a stroll in the park, no. No. You gotta come in expecting to run a marathon. Every single day. Nonstop. You gotta run like hell to keep up with him and he doesn't slow down._

 _Coffee's your best friend, whiskey is your fuck-buddy, and drugs? Well, drugs are your bat-shit crazy ex, Tina. Stay the fuck away from Tina. She'll show you a good time and before you know it, you're falling behind the pack to get a $700 high in the bathroom stall of a 7/11._

 _And the ones who fall behind are the weakest, and the weakest get offed._

 _So don't fuck with Tina._

 _Something else you don't mess with, relationships. Love is just a different side of Tina. And we've already established you don't need to associate with that bitch._

 _Oh, and one more thing I had to learn . . . Don't drop your gun. It'll go off and blow your pinky toe to hell._


	2. Chapter One

**_Chapter One_**

 _So, I'm the right hand man to the one and only God of mass destruction and Prince of crime. But I didn't just wake up and it be like this, no. I had to work my ass off to get to where I am._

 _When I said earlier that I couldn't remember how I got here, that was clearly an over exaggeration to further show how fast paced this lifestyle is._

 _That being said, I took a step into crime when I was seventeen years old._

 _Let's take a stroll down memory lane._

 _The year was 1997, I had just dropped out of high school._

 _I didn't have a job, I didn't have a car, I didn't even have a house. When one doesn't have any of these in this city, they're usually found in bars and at sleazy clubs trying to get free drinks and buy Krocodil disguised as meth._

 _So the fact that I wasn't doing any of this, is a miracle in itself._

 _Instead, I was at Buckie's Poker and Pub, whooping complete ass in a game of Texas hold 'em. I only had $13 to my name, and left with $5,050 but let's talk about what happened between the time I got there and the time I left_.

"Hey, Kid, you old enough to gamble?" I looked up at one of the waitresses who was eyeing me carefully.

We'd been playing for a while now, and I knew my cards were going to make all these guys wish they would've stayed away.

There was maybe eight other guys around me, all of them had stopped to look at us.

"I'm old enough to do whatever you want me to." I looked up at her and she rolled her jaw, her eyes narrowing.

She was maybe in her mid 30's, she was attractive, too bad I wasn't particularly in the mood to take anyone home—or even to the bathroom for a quickie.

"Hmm." She scoffed, turning to walk away.

"What's your name?" One of the bigger guys asked, I raised a brow and looked around the table at the others.

"Now, why the hell is that your concern?" I cock my head and a couple of the others chuckle a little.

"I like to know who I take every last penny from so I can send them a 'sorry for your loss' card in the mail."

"The only card anyone's gonna be gettin' is you when I send you a postcard of me nailing your wife, after I win." I lick my lips. "All in." I state.

"All in." He adds in to.

"Same here." One of the others nods.

"Same." Another pipes.

I grin, raising my eyes to my main opponent.

His eyes suddenly grow to the size of softballs as he looks at me.

No, not me, someone behind me.

I feel hands grip my shoulders, and smell cologne and faint cigar smoke.

"I–Boss, I was just—" he tried to speak but was interrupted by the person behind me.

"—Ah, ah, ah." A blood chilling voice spoke smoothly. I felt a prickling of my nerves shoot up my spine and I dared to glance at my shoulder to see paper white, ringed fingers holding onto me tightly. "You were supposed to clock in, mmm," he raised his watch. "Forty minutes ago. And here you are, getting your balls handed to you by a seventeen year old boy." He suddenly grabbed my cards and slammed them down, face up, making all the players curse under their breaths. "Winner, winner, chicken dinner." He smiled widely at me, pulling all the money my way.

"Boss, I was just taking a break." The guy argued and my brows shot up.

Did he just talk to the fucking Joker like that?

All I heard was laughter from Joker.

"Break? As in you were tired?"

"Yeah, tired. I'm just a man, Boss. I have to relax at some—"

Next thing I know, there's a bullet hole in his forehead and he's falling from his chair.

I look up to see Joker blow smoke from his pistol.

"Tired!" He cackled, holding the gun to another man's head.

He was shaking, terrified, as he stared off into space it seemed.

"Did you hear that?" J mocked. "He was tired! Tell me, does anyone else here who's under my employment, get tired?!"

I assumed there were others that worked for him that were here because everyone fell silent and some of them looked as though they needed to disappear.

That's when J looked dead at me, a hint of a smirk pulling at his red lips.

"What about you, winner? You get tired?"

I take calm breaths, not letting him know I could shit myself right now.

"I haven't slept in three weeks so I suppose not." I reply, cooly.

He smiles widely, now, pointing the gun at my head.

I see all the high points in my life flash before me, fear uncoils in my stomach and I feel nauseated.

This is it. This is how I die. Trying to intimidate The Joker.

"You're dismissed." He hisses to the other guys and they dart out.

He stares at me, studying me, for a good seven minutes before he tucks his gun back into his holster.

"Tonight's your lucky night, then, Johnny." He tells me.

"How do you know me?" I ask him.

"I know everybody in my city, and what they do. It helps me decide who needs a reality check and who's already seeing their miserable life is a gag." He goes across the table from me, where the dead guy was sitting. He kicks past his body, muttering "excuse me" before sitting down.

"You think I need a reality check?" I ask next.

"Do you look at your life and say, 'damn this is perfect'?"

I can't help but force out a chuckle.

"Fuck no."

"Then you already get the joke." He replies.

"You gonna offer me a job or somethin'?" I raise a brow.

"A job is flipping burgers." He scoffs. "It's for people who have the time to be tired." He sneers at the dead body. "Working for me is a _career_."

"Does it pay like a career?" I cross my arms.

"Your salary could make the Wayne family look lower middle class. If you're good at your responsibilities, that is."

We look at each other, my mind turning it's gears as I really think about this.

I could die, I could either have someone kill me or drive myself just as mad as him.

I shake my head a little before changing my mind.

"I'll play the game." I nod. "I got nothing to lose. What're the rules?"

He gives me a sly, devilish grin.

 _Dude fucking terrified me. I ended up In the back of a Cadillac Escalade with him explaining everything there was to know about being a criminal mastermind._

 _And just when everyone in the fucking city thought he was a crazy clown with no direction, he proved us all wrong in one breath._

 _"I have a direction, a plan, but it doesn't come to me when plans are supposed to come to people. I do it, and then I realize it was a part of the plan."_

 _Is what he told me._

 _And it all made fucking sense. This crazy bastard, this God the underworld seemed to worship out of fear, didn't know what the fuck he was doing until he was finished doing it._

 _So, remember when I told you I didn't just become his right hand man over night?_

 _Yeah, I lied._

 _Don't get me wrong, I didn't have to work to become his favorite. But I had to work to keep myself in his good graces._

 _That came with doing crazy shit like waking up at 3 a.m. To go buy fucking balloons and cake icing for The Batman's fucking birthday._

 _I also had to detonate the bomb in Batman's cake when it accidentally started counting off in the house before we could deliver it to the GCPD building._

 _It also meant I had to be the biggest cock-block ever to keep women off J._

 _He was nice lookin' to every woman we came in contact with. And he had warned me about it before, but I didn't believe him until one girl clawed my fucking face up fighting me because I wouldn't let her see him._

 _Women are crazier than he is, sometimes._

 _I thought like that, until recently._

 _Until a new dancer was hired at The Grin and Bare It and Harley had busted into my room the next morning to tell me all about the "sexy little thing" she thought would be "perfect" for me._

 _Because Harley is possibly one of the most adorable and good hearted people I know (under all the fucking blood lust, Joker lust, and crazy) I didn't completely shut her down to spare her feelings._

 _The truth was, after an incredibly nasty split with my ex—Veronica—about ten years ago, I never gave women the time of day. Unless it was for sex, and even those cases were rare._

 _Joker understood it, hell, he even encouraged me to stay away from the satanic succubi that are the female gender. But Harley . . . She's too in love with the idea of love for her own good. She didn't understand, she couldn't._

 _I know J had been where I was when he met Harley—completely content with being by himself. And ah shad managed to break him of that._

 _But I'm not him, and women as smart and conniving as Harley are very seldom so I can't see any woman getting into my head and invading my "I'm fine by myself" mentality._

 _And eventually, Harley trapped me in one of her famous schemes of playing Cupid._

 _The Woman had to be the most evil being I'd ever met—aside from J._

"Johnny!" Harley exclaimed with a wide smile as I stepped to her.

"Boss said you needed somethin'." I cleared my throat. She grinned deviously from where she sat at the bar and nodded, rubbing her lips together.

"The girls need water." She states and I furrow my brows.

"Isn't Alicia supposed to keep up with that?"

 _Alicia wasn't a dancer, though she had the body to be one. No, she wasn't nice enough to be a dancer. She was Harley's "right hand". More like one of her gal pals that plots to aggravate the living hell out of us men when they're bored. She was also in charge of making sure the girls had everything they needed. Might I add she could give any man a run for their money when it came to hand to hand combat, I learned that the hard way when I mistook her as a stripper the first time meeting her._

"She went home early to check up on Bud and Lou for me and J." She shrugged. "I need ya to keep the girls hydrated. Dehydrated athletes are unhappy athletes and unhappy athletes don't perform very good and make less money."

"That what we're calling this now?" I motion to the girls in golden Batman masks, earning their tips. "A sport?"

"You shake your ass, do splits and dry hump strangers for twelve hours straight and tell me if you feel like you had a little 30 minute work out or played a fucking sport's game with no bench time." She hissed. "Just get the girls some water." She whined next and I sneered.

"Fine!" I hold my hands out in surrender as she steps behind the bar and hands me a case of water bottles.

"Thanks." She winks.

"Yeah, yeah." I huff, stepping to the back dressing rooms.

I look up at the dimly lit, mirrored ceiling and sighed heavily.

"I better be gettin' a raise after this." I mumble, knocking on the door at the end of the hall.

It swings open, and Aubrey stares me in the eyes . . . As her bare breasts are just out . . . Unclothed . . . And just there.

"Jesus fuck." I look straight up.

"Can I help you?" She leans against the frame.

"Water." I hold the case out.

"What about Alicia?"

"She left early."

"And you're the next best thing to give us water?"

"Aubrey, I assure you I don't want to be here havin' to avoid starin' at your chest. Harley told me being y'all water. I'm doin' what I'm told."

"Mm, that's a good excuse." She scoffs. "Just set it in the corner."

"What? Like go in there? With all y'all buck-ass-naked?!" I look at her now and she raises a brow.

"Ashamed of us or something?" She crosses her arms.

"Ashamed that I've fucked A third of y'all? Little bit." I push past her, going as quickly as I can to the corner, going around half naked women as much as I can.

I set the water down and turn back around, my eyes locking on legitimately the most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen.

I didn't recognize her, at all . . . And that's when it hit me.

She was the one Harley was trying to get me with.

Then I realized that Harley had me come back here so I'd have the chance to meet her.

She was touching up her lip gloss, she actually had a silk robe on, and her hair was in fresh curlers.

"Close ya mouth." Aubrey hit my shoulder and I shot her an agitated glance.

I look away from the new girl, she didn't see me, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out.

I dart to the door and slam it shut, walking back to Harley, who was now in J's lap.

"Hey, doll. How was it?" She asked.

"Who is she?" I snap at her and she smirks smugly, looking up at me.

"Ophelia Edwards—that's her American name, at least." She mixes her martini with her finger. "She's one hell of a dancer. I think you'll like—"

"—No." Me and J both cut her off in a harsh tone.

She pouts, looking between the two of us.

"You're both no fun."

"Why are you so damned concerned with my love life?" I lean down to her level.

"Because you're lonely."

"J doesn't give me the time to be lonely. I'm always with you or him."

"Not at bedtime." She points out. "I mean, you probably cuddle up to your pillow or whack off to—"

"—I'm not havin' this conversation with you." I hold my hand up, can't helping but to crack a smile at her.

"I'm just worried." She explains.

"You ain't gotta be. I'm completely fine bein' by myself."

"Johnny, I studied people for a living. I know what I'm talkin' about." She tapped her head for emphasis and me and J exchanged a look.

"Just go with it." J mouthed to me and I nodded.

I pat her shoulder. "Whatever you say. All I know is that I am content with how . . . " I trail off, seeing Ophelia coming straight for us.

"Harley," she motions to her and Harley hops off J and steps to her.

"My Zipper snagged on my dress, I need you to fix it, please." She asked politely and I took the time to examine her.

She was in a sequin dress (like all of the girls were), it was spaghetti strapped and reached the tops of her thighs. It had wide triangular slits in the sides of it and a plunging neckline that stopped above her navel.

She was naturally on the tanner side with dark hair and dark eyes, and judging by her accent, I think it's safe to assume she's of Indian descent.

"Here," Harley helped her, zipping her dress back when she fixed it.

"Mask on." J ordered her and Ophelia nodded.

"Thanks, Harley." She turned to go, getting ready to put her mask on when Harley grabbed her wrist.

"Wait, Oppie," The woman raised a brow and looked at her. "Have ya met Johnny Frost, our security?" Harley looked to me.

I gave her a "I hate you" look before giving "Oppie" a tight smile.

"Ah, the water boy." She commented and I roll my jaw. "Ophelia." She holds her hand out and I take it.

"Johnny."

"Nice to meet you." She stares a me a moment before J snaps her out of it.

"There a reason you're not making my money?" He barks and she looks at him.

"Sorry, Boss." She mumbles before stepping away from us.

"Ain't she great, Johnny?" Harley giggled.

I watched Ophelia as she stepped into a cage with a couple of other girls, and immediately fell into the rhythm of the music, grinding and gyrating provocatively on them.

I had to look away to keep from getting hard.

J and Harley were staring at me carefully, and I looked at them.

"What?" I ask. They look at each other and Harley laughs as if she's gotten her way, J pressing a small kiss to her neck.

"Nothin'." Is all she says.

 _I shoulda fucking cut and run that night._

 _But I couldn't bring myself to._

 _Instead, I went to Roscoe when we got back to the house._

 _He was in charge of hiring dancers, he had every thing there was to know about each of them. And my mind was set on Ophelia Edwards_.

"Hey, Roscoe," I follow him up the stairs and he turned to face me. "I need everything you got on Ophelia."

He raised a brow and grinned.

"You tryna smash or somethin'?"

"No, no." I shake my head. "No. I just wanna know about her."

"Ah, so you already plannin' you're weddin'?" He continues up the stairs.

"No." I rub my face.

"Then why do you want her whole file, Johnny?"

"Because I can." I state once we get to the top of the stairs. "C'mon, Roscoe. I help you lie to your wife all the time. It's time to repay me."

"You help me because she trusts you more than she trusts me." He scoffs.

"Maybe she'd trust you more if you told her what you do for a living." I suggest and he sighs.

"Point taken." He goes into J's office and unlocks the filing cabinet, looking through the names.

He picks up a thin file, and hands it to me.

"Miss. Edwards. Eat your heart out." He pats my shoulder, shutting the drawer.

"Thanks, Man." I open it, seeing everything from her birthday to where she was originally born.

 _I studied that folder like a fucking text book. Like some love sick puppy trying to find out everything about his crush._

 _I hated it. I despised it._

 _But that didn't stop me. I ended up staying up all night that night. And the next morning, when Harley was making us coffee, Roscoe had to open his mouth, and feed Harley's obsession with my romantic life._

"You what?!" She shrieked and me and J both jumped at the sudden squeal.

"All I did was ask to see her folder so I could find out a little about her."

"You find out a little about her by asking around. You don't memorize her whole life story." J snaps.

"Says the one who did the same damn thing to me." Harley cocks a brow at him and he cuts his eyes at her.

"I asked about you before I went full on stalker."

"I ain't goin' full on stalker," I raise my voice, aggravated. "I just wanted to know more about her and I have."

"And?" Harley wiggles her brows at me.

"She's a pretty descent person. That's all I gotta say about it. Now, leave it be."

"Pretty descent?" Harley was offended by this I guess because she looked astounded. "Pretty descent? I've met pretty descent people and she ain't just descent. I mean, have ya seen her?! The woman is a goddess, Johnny. Obviously not as hot as me but she's a close second." She points a finger at me. "She's a really nice girl once you get to know her."

"Harley, with all do respect, nice people don't survive in this line of business. I don't need a nice girl. I don't want a girl, period."

"You could use a nice girl, though." She argues and I just stare at her blankly. "No? Mkay."


	3. Chapter Two

**_Chapter 2_**

 _The following days were a fucking nightmare._

 _You know when you buy a new car and you suddenly see the same car everywhere you go? As if everybody's gotten the same damn car as you?_

 _Ophelia fucking Edwards was my car._

 _Everywhere I went in that club, I always managed to catch a glimpse of her. I had to constantly readjust myself. Shit was a fucking nuisance._

 _Not to mention I began to get a little . . . Pestered . . . by the sight of her giving other men lap dances._

 _I didn't fucking care, I didn't even like her, I just got a little bothered. That's all._

 _We hadn't spoken once, only making awkward eye contact every now and then._

 _But Harley was working her little ass off to get us together._

"She's asked about you, ya know." Harley leaned in to tell me as we both sat at the bar.

"Who?" I asked, taking a swig of my scotch.

She gave me a "you know who" look and I scoffed.

"You tell her I got no interest in strippers?"

Harley gave me a "shut up" look and I ignore her.

. . . Until I glance over and see Ophelia standing behind the bar next to our bartender.

She had her arms crossed, her brows arched.

I know she heard my asinine comment, and I downed the rest of my drink, feeling a little bad.

"That's perfectly okay." Oppie tells me. "Because I have no interest in the _help_."

With that, she grabbed her bottle of water from on top of the counter, took a sip from it and strutted back to the cage she had previously been in, putting her mask back on in the process.

"Ouch." Harley mumbled, looking at me.

"Can it." I snap and she gives me a tight smirk, trying not to laugh.

I slam my glass on the counter, striding over to the booth J was in. He was staring at Harley intently. I've seen him look at her for hours before. I never understood how you could be that caught up in some one, but he was.

Of course I wasn't going to point it out, he'd kill me. But I did think it was a kinda ironic.

"Need anything, Boss?" I ask him and he waves his hand, dismissing me without even looking away from Harley.

She was currently dancing on the bar with Aubrey. I think she'd had one too many martinis. Which meant I'd have to drive home with her and J going at it like rabbits in the back of the car.

I sigh, glancing over to see Ophelia slide down one of the hanging chains, easing onto the glass floor into a split.

I snap my head away from the view, grinding my teeth at the realization that I was getting hard.

I make my way to the men's room. My head was pounding, I was getting flustered.

I bust the door open, and I curse loudly.

Rocco, one of my colleagues, and Jess, one of the dancers, were fucking on the sink.

"Oh, shit sorry!" Rocco exclaimed, looking at me.

But he didn't stop. He just slowed down.

Jessica looked as if she'd been shot full of Molly. Knowing Rocco, she probably was. Sweat covered her bare chest and face, her dress had been pushed up at the bottom and pulled down at the top, resting where her legs met her pubic area.

"I gotta piss." I tell him.

"I gotta nut." He argues, still going at it.

"You can finish in the hall!" I motion to the door.

"You can piss in the hall!" He picks up his pace. Jessica moans and I wrinkle my nose, rubbing my face. "Yeah, you like that don't you." He starts drilling her and I gag.

"Jesus fuck!" I shudder, grossed out.

I walk to the women's bathroom. Was I really going to do this?

I then thought about how badly I needed to piss.

Yeah. I was really going to do this.

I ease in, checking to make sure it was empty.

It was, and I darted to a stall and locked myself in.

Once I was done pissing (which is pretty fucking uncomfortable to do with a boner) I walked out of the stall and came face to face with Ophelia.

"The men's room was being turned into Rocco and Jessica's Red Room." I pushed past her to wash my hands.

"What you identify as isn't my business." She looked over herself in the mirror.

I could tell she was critiquing herself in her mind, turning certain angles and smoothing her dress down to see if her stomach poked out.

"You're healthy." I tell her. "That's all that matters."

She glances at me and licks her lips.

"I've seen it doesn't matter how thin you are, if you're healthy, you get more money." I add.

"How do you know?"

"Customers know the difference between 'healthy' skinny and then 'only ever eating celery and drinking water' skinny."

She glares at me, her lips pulled downward before she huffs out a breath and rolls her eyes.

"I didn't think you were interested in strippers?"

"I'm not." I bite back. "Just tryin' to help you get more money. Over thinking your weight, ain't gone help." I walk to the door and give her one last look before leaving.

Just as I'm coming out, Rocco and Jessica are stumbling from the men's room.

I just look at him evilly and he gives me a thumbs up, nodding his head at Jessica, who's walking a little funny.

"You're a sick fuck." I raise my brows at him and he chuckles.

"She's gonna need a wheelchair." He throws his arm around my shoulder and I shrug him off.

"You're lucky I don't tell J you're nailin' his girls when he ain't lookin'."

"I didn't snitch on you when you did it." He points out. "Don't ruin my fun."

"Don't try to marry one of 'em." I warn him and he scoffs.

"Fuck I look like? Nah, you taught all of us that you can't turn a hoe into a house wife, with Veronica."

"Alright, ha ha." Sarcasm drips from my words and he smiles gently.

"Harley and Roscoe's been tellin' me what's goin' with you and ol' girl. You gotta get back out there, ma—"

"—Just stop." I hold my hand up. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Harley, I don't have any interest in a stripper."

"I don't know why you sayin' that like you too good for any of them girls. They're makin' their money."

"I don't think I'm too good for them."

"Then why the hell you like this?"

"Because I don't want a damn girlfriend!" I yell, and everyone, and I mean, everyone in the club, looks at me.

 _That was possibly one of the most infuriating moments of my life._

 _And I didn't know why I was that mad about it._

 _But driving back home was particularly miserable._

 _I regretted not being a little nicer to Oppie, and on top of that, J and Harley were humping each other profusely._

I press my lips into a thin line as Harley crawls on top of Joker, stripping her dress off.

Hearing him growl lowly in approval made me shake my head a little, trying to block them out.

And I couldn't do a damn thing about it because we were in the car without a partition.

I just had to grit my teeth and deal with it.

Even when Harley started moaning like her life depended on it and J's grunts and curses became more frequent.

When we got home, I slammed the door of the car and left them to it.

I head upstairs, reaching for my phone, only to discover it wasn't there.

I pat my pockets, remembering I set it on the bar when me and Harley were talking earlier in the night.

"Fuck." I rub my face, walking back down the stairs to the door. I get back in the car, seeing J's bare ass as he laid over Harley.

I brushed it off, driving all the way back to club.

They were still fucking when I parked out front.

"Hang tight." I tell them, not thinking before I spoke and they both laughed manically. "No pun intended." I mumble, shutting the door and heading to the back.

I come in, seeing almost everyone's gone, except a few of the girls and a couple people at the bar.

I walk to the bar and look at Aubrey, who's perched on the counter.

"Have you seen my phone?" I ask her.

"Oppie came by and got it."

"Why the hell she get my phone?" I growl and she raises a brow.

"I think she's still in the dressing room, Johnny." She tells me and I sigh, stomping to the back.

I don't even bother to knock, just busting in. I've already seen several of these girls naked before so what difference does it make now compared to them working?

I see Jess, Izzy, and Daniel, but not Ophelia.

"Where's Ophelia?" I ask them and Jess grabs her things, pulling her coat on.

"You just missed her."

"She's got my phone, that's how I stay in touch with the Boss when I'm not around." I explain. "Where does she live?"

 _Now, I know what you're thinking, it's too damn extensive to go through all that trouble for a cellphone. And I'm not one of those people who're constantly glued to such technology. But that's not my personal phone._

 _You see, every time Boss hires a new guy, he gives them a phone with all the the information that he needs on it. And it's so damned tightly wrapped and guarded, the fucking FBI can't get into if one of us is snatched up and put in cuffs._

 _So that device had enough on it to be used against J, and if it got into the wrong hands, it would be._

 _I knew Oppie wouldn't turn on her own employer, but I didn't know who she was hanging around, letting in and out of her house._

 _So I had needed that damn phone back as soon as possible_.

"She lives a couple blocks away from here," she thinks a moment. "Morris Apartment Complex, building 3. I think she's in 603."

"Thanks, Jess." I pat her shoulder and go to leave.

"I'd be careful, that's a rough part of town, Johnny!" She calls after me.

"You act like I don't work for The Joker. I know how to handle tough people!" I reply from the back door, hearing her laugh a little before I leave.

I take J and Harley back to the house, they were done when I got back, trying to catch their breaths.

I got in my car when I got back to J's mansion, and headed back to town.

I parked at the apartment complex, rolling my jaw before getting out. I walked in, seeing a woman at the front desk.

"Sir, do you have a key?" She asked as I stepped to the stairs.

"What?" I raise my brows from behind my sun glasses.

"A key? I can't let anyone without a key, or without someone with a key accompanying them, in the resident living floors for security purposes." She says next and I blink, taking my glasses off.

"Ma'am, your concerned about security, I understand that." I nod. "I'm a security guard . . . Of sorts . . . I get it completely. I don't live here, but I gotta special lady friend upstairs that I'm trying to surprise for our anniversary." I lie.

"How many years?" She asks, her expression softening.

"Four." I lie again.

"If you've been together four years, why aren't you just living together?"

"She's religious." I shrug.

"Why don't you at least have a key?"

"She keeps forgetting to have one made."

As if on cue, Oppie comes down the stairs in Pajama's. I assume she's heading to get her mail from the locked up boxes in the corner of the large lobby.

She spots me, her head cocked in confusion.

"Johnny?"

"Baby!" I step to her, pulling her to me. "There you are, I was just telling her about our anniversary." I motion to the woman at the front desk.

Oppie looks at me, a little startled before going along with it.

"Oh, yeah, of course." She tries to relax a little.

"Ophelia, how is it you've been dating this young man for four years and you still haven't gotten him a key yet?" The woman was convinced of our relationship and was smiling broadly.

"F-four years!" Oppie grimaces, a little shocked I came up with that. "That's interesting being that I've only been in America for two." She looks at me with a fake smile and I grin tightly. "Well, thanks, for watching out for me, Nora." Ophelia tells the woman before she steps to her mail box and unlocks it, grabbing the stack of envelopes.

"Wait, what'd you get her?" Nora asks me and I look at Oppie.

"Huh?"

"For your anniversary?" She adds.

"Uh," I look at my empty hands and says the first thing that comes to mind. "It's in my pants." I state and she blushes immensely as I grab Oppie's arm and head to the stairs.

"Oh, my, I thought you said she was religious?" Nora asks.

"Yeah, not tonight." I answer quickly as I make my way up the stairs.

When we get out of sight, I grab Ophelia's shoulders and shove her to the wall, making her hiss in discomfort.

"Where's my damn phone?" I growl out and she smirks.

"Ah, that's what you're after? Didn't just come here because you missed me?"

"Ophelia, I'm serious. Where is it?"

"Oh, please, Johnny. It's safe." She shoves me off of her. "You're the one who left it on the bar for anyone to take."

"And why didn't you return it to me?" I follow her to her floor and she snaps around.

"Because you left, and I don't chase after irresponsible men just to give them back their phones." She opens her door and tries to shut it on me, but I stop it, slamming it shut behind me.

"I'm not irresponsible." I point my finger at her.

"And that's why you're at my apartment trying to get your cellphone back." She plops the mail on the counter.

"Where's it at?" I rub my jaw and she looks at me pointedly.

"You'd love to know, wouldn't you?"

I roll my eyes and glare at her, making her give me a smug look.

"I'll tie your ass up and tear this place apart if I have to." I threaten her darkly and she cocks a brow.

I huff out a heavy breath, taking my gun out and pointing it at her.

She gets amused by this, chuckling before going to the fridge to grab a water.

"You won't do it." She shakes her head, taking a sip of water.

"What makes you say that? You think I ain't had to shoot down a woman before?"

She stares at me, the light in her brown eyes draining as she looks at the gun and then back to me.

Taking a breath, she steps to a drawer in the kitchen and opens it, handing me the phone.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" I snatch it from her, checking to see if she'd messed with anything.

She hadn't.

"K, you got what you wanted." She slams the door. "I need to get to bed." It was a passive aggressive way of saying "get the fuck out now".

"You go to bed at," I look at my watch. "12:00?" We usually closed at 1:00 a.m., but Boss had decided to close up earlier tonight.

She gives me a death stare and steps to what I assume is the bedroom.

I follow her, leaning against the door frame.

"I do when I get off this early." She replies to me, putting her dark hair in a bun.

I let out a short "hm", and step back into the main living area.

My eyes skim the walls, and I see pictures of her, people I assume are her family, and people I've seen around Gotham that she's friends with.

My eyes narrow when I see pictures of her with someone that's all too familiar to me.

"No, fuckin' way." I mutter, studying the picture intently.

She was perched on his lap, smiling so hard her eyes were closed, a beer in one hand, her left hand. He was pressing his lips to her neck. My eyes focus on the big-ass rock on her ring finger and my eyes bulge, the realization hitting me.

This slick bitch.

I look back down at my phone and grind my teeth.

I hear her coming and I step away from the pictures, heading to the door.

"I'll see you tonight, alright?" My tone is cool and collected and she nods. "Night."

"Goodnight."

 _I couldn't sleep that night, at all. I remember constantly tossing and turning, staring at that damn phone._

 _I finally had the courage to check and see if she really messed with it._

 _I ended up taking the back of it off to see if she took the chip that Boss had installed with all the information we needed and continued to add to._

My heart pounds in my chest as I take the back of the phone off, looking to see where the small chip had been placed.

My blood ran cold when I saw it wasn't there.

"Jesus fucking Christ."


	4. Chapter Three

**_Chapter 3_**

 _Now, before you jump to conclusions, no, she wasn't spying or anything like that, but didn't know that at the time_

Mario fucking Falcone.

Ophelia Edwards was engaged to Mario fucking Falcone.

My head swims as I pace in my room. How the hell did that get left out of her file?

Easy, because no one fucking knew about it.

I groan, rubbing my forehead.

How the hell was I going to explain this to J?

He'd kill her without hesitation. I knew that much.

I look at the phone that's on the desk in the corner of my room. Grabbing my keys, I take it from the desk and head downstairs.

Harley's sitting on the couch, flipping through a Cosmopolitan magazine. She looks up at me and immediately closes it.

"Where ya goin'?" She asks me and I shake my head slightly.

"Don't worry 'bout it." I tell her and she pouts.

"Frosty." She crosses her arms and I stop, turning to look at her.

"Just heading to Roscoe's, I'll be back in a few minutes." I admit and she nods.

"M'kay." She pipes, standing and stretching.

"Figured you'd be asleep after all the cardio you and Boss put in after we left the club." I comment and she gives me a sly grin, wagging her finger.

"You know I don't kiss and tell, Johnny."

"I could hear all your kissing and there's plenty to tell." I aggravate her and she narrows her eyes.

"Go to your boyfriend's house." She hisses, but she smiles a little before heading upstairs.

 _Roscoe has been my go-to since he was hired. Harley had Ivy, and I had Roscoe._

 _He was like the fucking Robin to my Batman. Except he wasn't dead . . . Too soon?_

 _He was the only person I could trust at that moment, so I fucking sprinted to him._

"Johnny?" Roscoe asks me when he opens the door. "What the hell you doin' here man?"

I push past him and he shuts the door.

"I studied that file, and not once did it mention Ophelia Edwards being married to Mario Falcone." I say it bitterly and he raised his brows.

"What?"

"She's married to Mario Falcone." I repeat.

"Mario Falcone? As in Carmine Falcone's—"

"—Son? Yeah, that bastard." I finish for him.

"Ah, fuck." He mumbles. "What's she doin' workin' for J if she married to the enemy?"

I give him a "think about that for a second" look and he sighs.

"Boss ain't gonna be happy." He declares.

"No, he's not gonna know about it." I state.

"Not know about it? Johnny, that woman's in there to be a soldier on the inside for the enemy. You're not seriously going to not tell him."

"I wanna know what she's up to before I throw her under the bus."

"Johnny," he waves his hand. "Listen to yourself."

"I am." I tell him. "I just wanna make sure she's doing what we think she might be."

"Or you could go turn her in to J and let him deal with her and her stank-ass husband?" He suggests.

"Not yet." I argue.

"If you thought she was ugly you wouldn't hesitate to snitch." He crosses his arms.

"Oh, please, don't even say shit like that."

"It's true! You only wanna protect her 'cause you got the hots for her."

"No, I don't."

"Johnny, I know you. You do."

"I don't fuck with strippers." I shake my head.

"You always sayin' that, but you forget thats all you ever fuck with!" He laughs without humor and I grit my teeth. "Every girl ain't like Veronica, Johnny."

"Don't." I snap.

"I'm just sayin'." He scoffs. "You do what you gotta do, but I'd tell Boss about her asap, if I were you."

 _I knew he was right, I just didn't want to think he was at the time._

 _The next week consisted of having to bite my tongue and play nice with Oppie, keeping the banter with her friendly as possible._

 _But that was hard to do when I was convinced she was putting on a show for her husband to enjoy later as she told him how she had everyone fooled, including The Joker._

 _I wanted to tell J, but every time I worked up the nerve to, I'd catch a glimpse of her and would be completely disarmed._

 _It was the most infuriating shit I'd ever dealt with._

Loud music echoed through the club as I sat in VIP with J, as he and one of his arms dealers talked about business.

I wasn't paying attention, my eyes watching the people around us intently. I was on high alert, making sure no one was doing anything they shouldn't be, and making sure no one was here that shouldn't be.

Whistles are heard as Harley makes her way to the center cage, and a small smile tugs at my lips seeing her laugh as she grabbed who I assumed was Izzy behind the golden Batman mask, and pulled her in with her.

Tonight, she was in a glittering crop-top that looped around her neck and had an open back, plus the matching skirt that barely covered her ass. Her curly, blue and red hair was half up-half down and diamond incrusted, 6-inch heels adorn her feet.

I looked to see J had completely disregarded his guest, his eyes gluing to his girlfriend, instead.

My gaze falls to the floor as I rest my elbows on my knees. I'm tired, exhausted even, which was something I couldn't afford to be right now. I couldn't let J know that or he'd kill me.

I stand up, needing a drink, and head to the bar.

When I get there, Aubrey already has my drink waiting, and hands it to me.

"I haven't seen Oppie tonight." She tells me lowly and I snap my head to look at her.

"You think I care?"

"I'm not telling you as Johnny. I'm telling you as Mr. Frost, our security." Her tone was serious and I purse my lips. "She's always here at 4:30. She ain't showed up yet."

I look at my watch to see it's now 9:43 and I roll my jaw.

She stares at me, her brow raised skeptically.

"I'll go see if she's at home, if that will make you feel better." I sigh and she gives me a look of victory.

"Thanks," she turns to serve the other customers and I finish my scotch and go to tell J I'll be back shortly.

 _I wish I could say I went to her place that night and caught her doing some sketchy shit with the chip she got from the phone, and I confronted her, we ended up having this huge blowout of a fight and then ended the night in rough hate-sex._

 _But that's not what happened._

 _Because when I slipped past Nora at the front desk and went to Ophelia's apartment, the door was unlocked and she was curled up in bed._

I clear my throat and her eyes flutter open and she looks up at me, confused.

"Johnny?" She sat up, groggily. "What're you doing here?"

"You know what time it is?" I asked her and she shook her head, reaching for her phone.

She saw the time and cursed loudly.

"Fuck!" She sprung up from the bed, rushing frantically to get cloths on.

She was in sweat shorts and a tank top, brushing her hands through her hair, trying to get her thoughts together.

"Almost five fucking hours late for work." She talks to herself, rubbing her face. "J's going to have my ass." Her voice was shaking as if she were about to cry.

I rub my lips together, seeing her on the verge of tears.

"Alright, look, you calm down and get ready—I'll call Harley and she'll handle it, okay?" I rub the back of my neck and she looks at me with a pitiful look.

"Really?"

"Yeah," I pull my phone out. "Go on, now. We ain't got time to waste."

She gives me a small smile before calming down and stepping to the bathroom.

 _"Oppie's running late, try to distract J and keep him in a good mood until we get back_."

I type, pressing send. Almost immediately, I get a reply.

 _"He hasn't noticed yet, I don't think. I'll keep him occupied until you guys get here."_

I take a breath of relief and look around her room. I glance at the bathroom door that's closed, and head to her drawers, looking for that damn chip.

I can't find it, and I go to her bedside table, opening the drawer.

I stop, seeing the drawer is cluttered with different things that are most likely important and valuable to her. A picture of her and someone I think might be her mother, a thick pile of envelopes that are tied with a ribbon—probably letters, a little black felt box. I reach for the box and see the huge ring that she was wearing in the picture with Mario Falcone. Under the box was a picture frame. I pull it from the clutter and see I was right. It was a wedding picture of her and Mario, in a church with his family surrounding them. She was in a white gown, he was in a tux, everyone looked picture perfect. As if it weren't a gangster filled wedding.

I hear the clicking of a gun, and I tense up.

"What're you doing?" Ophelia asks me in a deadly tone and I grab my own gun, snapping around and pointing it at her.

"You stole something from me and I came to get it back." I kick the drawer shut and she clenches her jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure glad your acting skills are better than your lying." I scoff. "So, what, you just do his dirty work? He's too much of a pussy to walk into the line of Fire himself so he sends his wife to do it instead?"

"What're you talking about?" She lowers her gun a little, her brows furrowed.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Mrs. _Falcone_." I snarl and she raises her brows, and squeezes her eyes shut. "Yeah, I know."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, I don't? That fucking wedding photo and rock the size of Gotham, sure as hell knows!" Anger rushes through me. Did she really think I was that stupid?

"No, you Jackass, you don't!" She tosses her gun to her bed, and yanks open a clothing drawer I didn't look through.

She holds up papers and I take them from her, looking them over.

It was divorce papers, and a restraining order against Mario Falcone.

"We were married for a year and then he started getting more and more aggressive." She sighs. "I filed for divorce and he would never sign the papers. Eventually, he showed up at the house I was staying in with a girl friend, and took me with him. When I managed to escape I went straight to the GCPD and they encouraged me to file a restraining order once they got him into custody. I knew he would eventually escape, and he did. So the first chance I got I moved to this side of town."

"You mean Joker's territory." I correct her and she nods. "If you got a restraining order against him, why'd you move here then?"

"You really think a piece of paper telling him he can't come within 100 feet of me is going to keep Mario Falcone away? Especially after I turned him in to the police?" She licks her lips. "That was a risk I couldn't take and I knew he wouldn't dare come for me as long as I was in Joker's jurisdiction."

"Then why'd you take the chip from my phone that has all of J's important confidential shit on it?"

"Because my information was on it, along with the rest of the girls'. I changed my name when I left him so he wouldn't find me as easily. I knew if my file name said one thing but my information on the chip said another, Joker wouldn't trust anything about me and throw me to the wolves."

"He's more understanding than you're giving him credit for." I tell her.

"He'd think the same thing you did. Except he wouldn't give me the chance to explain myself, and you know it."

"Well your name is still the same on everyone else's isn't?"

"No, I wiped theirs already. Yours was the last one I needed. And now that I've done what I needed to," she opens her closet, stands on her toes and hands me a ziplock bag with the chip in it. "Here."

I take it, thinking still.

She turns to go back to the bathroom and I stop her.

"Wait, if your real name isn't Ophelia, what is it?"

She looks at me and raises a brow.

"Mmm, I'm not sure I trust you with it yet." She smirks, shutting the door as she finishes getting ready.

 **W** hen we get back to the club, Oppie rushes to the dressing room once I unlock the back door.

J grabs her arm, examining her in her normal clothes.

"You're _late_." He hisses and she looks at me, wide eyed.

Harley's behind him, and I give her a "you had one job" look.

"Sorry." She mouths to me, looking sympathetically to Oppie, who's more than likely about to lose her job.

"It's my fault, Boss." I cut in and his blue eyes shift to me. "I kept her up today. She didn't get a lot of sleep."

"Doing what?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"She was helpin' Johnny help me figure out what to wear tonight!" Harley piped. "Ya know how long of a process that sorta thing is to me, Mistah J."

He looks between me and Oppie, his tight grip on her arm relaxing a little.

"It won't happen again, _Daddy_." Harley purrs, stepping to the front of him, placing her hand on his exposed chest, looking up at him like a dog waiting for its owner to tell it what to do next.

"It won't happen again, Boss." I assure him next. He bares his teeth at Oppie, giving her a death glare.

"It won't." She repeats, her voice wavering. She was scared shitless, and neither me or Harley blamed her.

"Make sure it doesn't, _Kid_." He seethes to her. "You're only 35, I'd hate to have to kill you so _young_."

With that, he let her go and threw an arm around Harley, stepping back to his booth.

"Ow," Oppie mumbled, rubbing her arm.

"You okay?" I ask her and she nods.

"Yeah—"

"—Johnny, get me a glass of Fireball!" I hear J's loud voice boom over the thumping music.

I turn back to see Ophelia's gone, and I sigh, doing what I was ordered to do.


	5. Chapter Four

**_Chapter 4_**

 _The rest of that night was a fucking, drunken, blur._

I got boss—who was currently being dry humped by Harley—his fireball, and settled at one of the white and gold plated chairs closer to the bar, and had another Scotch.

By that time, Oppie had gotten changed and was at the bar, gathering drinks to serve.

My drink was just reaching the bottom of the glass, and she came by and exchanged it for a full glass.

"Oppie," I stop her and she turns to face me. Despite her mask being on, I can tell what look she's giving me. "I don't need anymore. I won't be able to drive the boss home." I add, handing her the glass.

She takes it in her delicate hand and places it back on the gold tray, turning to serve the other customers.

Eventually, Harley stumbles from the booth J's in and comes to me.

"J needs ya," she smiles at me, probably still high off her time with Joker.

I stand and step to J, seeing him holding Ophelia's wrist as she leans over so he can whisper in her ear.

I furrow my brows, brushing it off as I approach them.

" . . . Got it?" He asks her aloud after letting go of her, and she nods. "Good. Go get changed." He nods to the back and she goes to the bar and sets the tray down, heading to the dressing rooms.

"What's up?" I ask him and Harley sits in his lap, throwing her arm over his shoulders.

"Harls, go help her get ready." J orders Harley and she pouts. He leans in and whispers something in her ear, and she scrunches her shoulder, giggling from what he's telling her. Her face suddenly changes to one of lust and she looks at him.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and she flashes a pearly white smile before getting up.

He pats her lower back and she steps to the dressing rooms.

"Alright, Johnny!" He motions me to come to him and I sit by him. He puts an arm around me, pulling me close. "So, I've been thinkin'," he starts. "My Harlequin tells me that a certain Dancing Bat is forming a little crush on you." He smooths my tie. "You know I'm all for love and everything tender and wonderful it stands for," I can tell he's being a smart ass, and he's meaning to be. "But at the same time, I also have a policy that was on the contract you signed seventeen years ago, and she signed three weeks ago when she decided to sell her soul to dance for the devil." He raises his nonexistent brows. "And that policy states that you can't fornicate with other employees of mine. Now, she's already warned Harley that she's got some dangerous little stirrings, so I want to make sure you're not going to risk your career for coworker pussy . . . _again_."

I have to think about my answer before he finishes.

There's no way in hell I care about her, not even a little crush. And for fuck sake, she has "stirrings" for me?

I almost laugh at the fucking thought.

"You think I give a damn about her?" I scoff and he smiles. He knows I'm not bullshitting him.

"Good!" He slaps my shoulder a couple times. "Just making sure my right hand learned his lesson."

I grimace inwardly, wishing he hadn't gone there. But he did.

I don't know why I expected him not to go there. He always went where he shouldn't in people's minds, their hearts. He poked and prodded to get a rise out of people and break them. Sometimes he jumped in head first, and other times he did it slowly, sneakily, like boiling a frog.

"You got nothin' to worry about, Boss." I assure him and he pats mg cheek.

"Good." He winks, going back to his original place. "Then you won't mind her putting on an explicit show for one of the patrons?"

The words hit me more than they should've and I look at him.

 _I couldn't remember the last time an "explicit" show was performed. Let me elaborate on how explicit "explicit" is._

 _Private show is a lap dance in one of the 5 VIP booths, those are for the people rich enough to afford them._

 _Explicit show costs an arm and a leg because, well, it's sex. Anything and everything the customer wants, goes._

 _But J didn't give his girls to just anybody, he had to know that the person was smart enough to know that if whatever woman of his choosing were to go missing or end up being dead at the end of the night, they'd regret it._

 _He'd sit for a good two hours and intimidate and scare the hell out of whoever was asking for a special night with one of the dancers. Letting them know what would happen if something inconvenient were to happen to them._

 _And that's why explicit shows were so seldom, barely anyone passed the test._

I just blink at him, nodding.

"Alright." I say and he waves his hand.

"Go fetch Harley for me." He leans back and I comply.

I bust into the dressing room, keeping my gaze on the floor, avoiding the stares of the dancers as they change and touch up hair and makeup.

I hear Harley talking to Oppie, and when I go to her Vanity, I see Harley dotting a dark lipstick onto Ophelia's full lips.

I don't think she completely understood what kind of show she was preparing for.

Her and Harley were having small talk, giggling and laughing at certain points in conversation.

Once she was done, Harley stepped back and adored her work.

She'd dressed Oppie up like a doll, a tight, long sleeved silk, gold dress hugged her. The neckline leaving barely anything to the imagination.

Thigh high-heeled gold boots clung to her legs and her long hair was pulled over one shoulder and curled loosely.

"Pretty as a picture, ain't she, Johnny?" Harley winked at me and I nodded.

"Yeah." Ophelia saw through my fake, tight smile and gave me a wavering look.

She picked up the gold mask and Harley gently slapped her hand.

"Ya won't need that, Hon." she piped.

"So what exactly am I going to have to do?" She asks as we lead her out of the dressing room.

Harley kept her mouth shut, knowing Ophelia would relent if she knew exactly what was going on.

I squeezed my eyes closed when we got to J, who was laughing with the customer who wanted Ophelia.

"Ah, here she is!" J boomed happily as he caught sight of her.

I didn't recognize the paying man, he wasn't too old, but not too young either.

He gave an eery smile at her and stood.

J grabs me suddenly, pulling me in to whisper in my ear.

"Go tell Aubrey to fix Ophelia's drink."

I knew what that meant.

"Boss, I really don't know if this is a good idea." I mumble. "Can't you get Jess or Izzy? They've done this a couple times before. I'm not sure if Oppie would be comfortable—"

"—Do you think my main concern is her comfort?" He asks me, his brows furrowed and his head cocked.

"No, but I mean, she's never done this."

"There's a first time for everything. I assure you, after her drink, she'll be _dying_ to get his cloths off." He smiles like the Cheshire Cat.

I bite my tongue and go to the bar.

"I need Ophelia's drink." I tell Aubrey and she nods, pouring a Bourbon and dropping three pills into it. She stirs it so the pills dissolve and hands it to me.

I take it back to Oppie, and she drinks it in an attempt to calm her nerves, still unaware of what was going to happen to her when she finished it and the Ecstasy kicked in.

 _I drank so much after she left I couldn't drive J and Harls home. So they left me there and I ended up passing out on the couch of one of the VIP booths._

 _I had woken up at 3:00 in the afternoon when they started getting things ready for opening at 5:00 that night, went and got a shower and came back._

 _I hated myself for what I let happen to Ophelia that night._

 _Because nothing happened._

 _Nothing at all._

 _She'd came in that afternoon, 4:30 on the dot, with a huge smile on her face and an energetic hop in her step._

"Why're you so happy to be alive?" J asked her as she pranced in, smiling ear to ear.

"I had the best time of my life last night." She told him.

I snapped up to look at her, confused.

Did she really enjoy fucking that stranger?

"Mmm, I bet you did." He looked at me.

"I went into a complete frenzy by the time we got to the car. I was trying to get his cloths off and other crazy things, but he was actually a complete gentleman."

"Oh, really?" Harley asked as she picked at her nails.

"Yes." She nods. "Charles made me breakfast this morning, made sure I had plenty of water and let me stay as long as I needed to." She walked to the bar and Harley jumped up and followed her.

"Charles?" J's face twisted at the fact that she was calling him by his first name after one fucking night.

"I want all the details," I heard her squeal to the brunette.

I stopped listening after that, I didn't want to know what the fuck happened between Ophelia and Mr. Perfect Gentleman that should've fucked her brains out but decided to play Batman and be heroic.

What the fuck kind of man that claimed to be a gangster, did that?

I don't know why I'm bitter about him not doing something horrible to Ophelia, but I was.

"Awe, how romantic!" Harley exclaimed from the bar and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, he's God!" I shout across the club and they look at me.

Roscoe appears next to me and grins slyly.

"Don't even start." I growl at him.

"You ain't jealous, are you?" He asks quietly and I roll my eyes.

"I could give a fuck what or _who_ that _stripper_ , does." I turn away from him but he follows me to the men's room.

"Damn, Frost, that was a little harsh." He tells me.

I ignore him, going to a urinal and unzipping my pants.

"I don't know what's worse," he crosses his arms by the urinal I'm at. "The fact that you're angry nothing bad happened to Ophelia last night, or that you're jealous when you know good and damn well, Boss will neuter you if he finds out you actually care about her?"

"I don't fuckin' care." I finish pissing and zip back up.

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be pitchin' a fit."

"I'm not pitching a fit," I wash my hands. "I just think it's ridiculous she leaves doped up and scheduled to have a rough night and comes back high as a kite on romance and chivalry." We walk out and he scoffs.

"Well, maybe it was a one time deal." He shrugs, that's when we hear it.

The giddy squeal of Oppie catches our attention and I see her flash across my field of vision before wrapping her legs around the man she left with last night, her lips going to his.

"Oh, maybe not." Roscoe mutters and I roll my jaw.

"Ophelia, not in the work place!" J shouts in a startling tone and she looks at him, and then catches my glare. She averts her gaze and looks almost apologetic before getting back to her feet.

"It's gonna be a long-ass night." Roscoe says next, lowly and I laugh, bitterly.

"No it's not. Because I don't give a fuck."


	6. Chapter Five

**_Chapter 5_**

 _I spent the entire time at the club that night ignoring Oppie._

 _She'd look at me to make a face or mouth off in a smart ass way like she usually did, and I'd immediately look away as if I didn't see her._

 _She caught onto it quickly, and I could see her frowning from the corner of my eyes. But I didn't care. I figured she could get Charles to make her fucking smile again._

I watch as Ophelia hands Charles another glass of gin, and she smiles as if she were doped up on something. It was pathetic.

J finally came around and rolled his eyes, seeing her spending a little too much time at Charles' table tonight.

"Jezebel," He pipes and she stiffens, hearing his faux sweet voice. A pale hand clasps onto her bare shoulder and I could see her nerves and muscles coil under her skin from tension. "You can worship Baal after hours." He hisses and she looks up at him and nods. "Don't make me have to tell you again." He leaves her and she sighs, apologizing to Charles briefly before heading back to serving before it's her shift to dance.

 _Charles had just smiled at her, like she was fucking Virgin Mary carrying baby Jesus, as she sauntered off._

 _He'd come every fucking night, always leaving at the end of her shift with her on his fucking arm like a piece of bubble gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe._

 _And I'd always go home, not caring about her._

 _It all got worse and worse as one week turned into two, and then three. Soon enough she was staying at his mansion almost every fucking night._

 _When they became an item was when I had my last straw._

 _I hated her. God only knows why, but I did. I went from avoiding her, to just ignoring her. Anytime she opened her mouth to say something to me, and I'd just look at her as if she were dumb, and wave her off, or just roll my eyes and walk away before she could finish speaking._

 _I could tell it hurt her when I did that, but, once again, I always thought she had Charles to fuck her sadness away . . . So I didn't mind hurting her._

 _She caught onto it eventually, though. And she'd stare into my soul any time she was dancing._

 _And she knew I couldn't have fucking looked away. How could I, honestly?_

 _After a couple weeks of her doing this torturous game of ours, it went downhill even more than I thought it could._

It was a particularly bad night. Considering Ophelia was wearing a sheer gold and diamond studded corset and matching panties—patches of diamonds only covering the parts people would need to pay extra to see—earlier.

How dare she waltz around half naked every night, giving me the worst fucking hard-ons of my life, and not attempt to do anything about it?

No doubt she was wearing the special little number for Charles.

That bastard.

I roll my jaw as I see Oppie strut out in less than what she had on before.

"Johnny," I hear J in my earpiece. "Get over here."

I didn't ask questions, I went to his booth . . .

. . . And saw Charles.

"Have a seat, Johnny. We're about to get a show." He grins and I look at Charles, irritated. He doesn't pay me any attention, his eyes focused on someone coming towards us.

The beads that were separating us from the crowd were suddenly pushed to the sides and my eyes scanned up Ophelia's body.

My chest tightens but I have to keep a straight face, prove to J that she doesn't have any kind of effect on me because I don't care for her.

She glances at me, before she starts slowly moving her hips to the music. It was slower than what's usually playing, but any of these girls can make gospel music sinful with the way they can move to any beat.

Again, I have to keep a straight face when I can feel my cock starting to press against my pants, uncomfortably.

I stare at her, and she stares at Charles a moment before swaying lowly to the ground before moving to a sexy crawl to him.

When she gets to him a few feet away, she grins up at him and slides her hands up his abdomen to his chest before bringing herself back up and straddling him.

I can't pull my eyes away as she stays practically dry humping him, slowly and teasingly. His eyes roll back and closes them when she puts her hands on his knee caps and tilts her head back to look dead at me, her hips still rolling into his.

Joker is watching me, intently.

He knows what he's doing. He wants to see if I'll get jealous and cause a scene, to see if I truly don't give a fuck about her.

Little does he know I really don't.

When I look at her again, she's turned to face me, her hands push his legs apart, she's suddenly sliding across his groin, rubbing her ass against his pretty damn obvious erection.

But her eyes don't leave mine, her full lips part, taking shallow breaths when his hands grab her thighs and pulls them apart, hooking either of her legs on the outside of his own.

Customers aren't supposed to touch the dancers during a lap dance, it costed extra, if Joker even allowed it But J just gives me an evil grin as he ignores what's going on between the two and just stares at me.

Charles' hand slides into Oppie's panties, and she gasps when he plays with her—but her eyes stay on me.

I'm very aware of the uncomfortable strain on my cock as it gets even harder at the sight of her face shifting in pure pleasure.

But then I feel angry that he's the one making her feel that way and not me.

His rubs on her turn into him finger fucking her, and her hips buck as she eventually comes.

When she does, I look at J who gives me a smug smile before turning to Oppie.

"Go get cleaned up and back to work." He orders and she does as she's told, stumbling out of the booth. "Johnny go help her back there before she falls and gets an injury."

I look at Charles, who eyes me before sticking his fingers in his mouth and sucking her off of them.

I curl my lip and leave, following her closely.

She ignored me when we reached the dressing room.

We were the only ones in there, and she plopped down in the seat in front of her Vanity and huffed out a breath.

"What the hell was that, Ophelia?" I ask her lowly and she scoffs, looking at me in the mirror.

"Something you shouldn't have watched." She hisses back in a vicious way.

Was she mad at herself for allowing that to happen, or mad at me for allowing it to happen?

"Wouldn't be anything to watch if you wouldn't have let him do—"

"—Johnny, what me and Charles do, is our business."

"Not when you do at your place of business." I snap. "He's been here every night since you two met. You've been giving J plenty of opportunities to embarrass the both of us, Ophelia."

"So now this is my fault?" She turns to look up at me.

"No, of course not, nothing's ever your fault." I throw my arms up.

"Why do you even care?!"

"Because . . . " I sigh and rub my face. "You're my friend, Oppie."

"You haven't been treating me as if I were one, lately." She comments softly and I sigh, stepping to her to crouch at her legs.

I look up at her, grabbing her hands in mine.

"I know. I been shitty the past couple weeks. And I'm sorry for that, I really am. I'm just tryin' to look out for you."

"I'm a grown woman, Johnny."

"I know."

"I don't need someone holding my hand and making sure I'm alright." She continues.

"Joker and Harley are grown-ass adults and they do that to each other." I point out, hoping to get at least a chuckle from her. But all I get is a blank look.

"We're not them, Johnny."

"Just saying." I shrug.

She stays quiet for a good minute before speaking again.

"I've been being a little mean to you, too." She admits. "Trying to make you jealous, honestly."

"Why?" I made sure to use a bland tone of voice. If I sounded too eager she'd think I cared for her.

"Just . . . I don't know." She muttered. "I'm stupid. That's all." She ran a hand through her dark hair.

I don't say anything, because I have no clue what to say. Just because I get a woody from her shaking her ass half naked, doesn't anything.

But damn if it didn't make me want to fuck her brains out. I had to stop myself, I was thinking dangerously—something I couldn't afford to do.

"I'm gonna go," I clear my throat. "J probably needs me."

She looks disappointed before she nods in understanding.

"Yeah, I have to get . . . " she glanced down at herself and a red hot blush crept to her cheeks. "Cleaned up." She coughed awkwardly.

"Yeah." I clear my throat awkwardly, heading out.

When I get in the hall and close the door behind me, I hit my fist on the wall.

"Feeling okay, Johnny?" J's voice rings in my ears and I snap around and look at him.

"Yes, sir." I collect myself and he gives me a slick smile.

"Not upset about anything, are you?" He asks as he steps to the staircase by the bathrooms and head up to his office.

Again, he's trying to see if I care about her.

"Boss," I walk follow him in. "I don't fuck with strippers." My tone drops to a serious one and he narrows his eyes. "Nothing, and no one, that trashy, ass shaking, woman, can do will get me upset or make me jealous in any way, form or fashion. I know you were trying to see how I'd react with that little stunt with Charles."

"And it made you upset." He cocks his head.

"No, what made me upset is that no one believes me when I tell them that I want nothing to do with a dancer. Especially not her."

There's a long silence, and Boss looks past my shoulder and an amused look shifts to his face.

I look to see Ophelia standing there, a stack of bills in one hand, her things in the other.

She must've been going home for the night, giving Joker his half of her tips before leaving.

Her dark eyes are almost watering, she'd heard what I'd said about her.

I feel a strum of guilt pull in me, but I brush it off.

This was it. The moment I'd either chase after her and explain myself, or let her walk and let J know I was being honest.

She walked to J, handed him the money, then turned to leave.

I take a deep breath, and rub my lips together.

"Ophelia," I stop her and she looks at me. She looks hopeful, like she doesn't want me to let her leave angry at me. Like she wants me to explain myself so she can try to understand.

I just grind my teeth, a smirk on my lips.

"Fix me a drink before you go." I tell her. Her face falls even more, and tears line her lashes.

She gives me a demonic look before turning to leave.

 _That moment, right there, was enough to kill me._

 _Two days passed, and she didn't show for work._

 _The third day, at Joker's snapping point with her, he had Harley to call her to inform her she was fired . . . But before Harley could even get in contact with her, she received Ophelia's resignation in the mail._

"Oh, boy." Harley huffs out a sad breath while sorting out the mail.

"What?" I ask her and she plops an opened envelope in front of me at the bar.

It was almost opening and everyone was getting the club cleaned up and ready for show time.

I furrowed my brows, reaching for it. I read the paper inside of it, and my face turns to stone.

"I really liked her." Harls frowns. "Wonder what chased her off? She could handle everything the job called for." She added.

Joker heard, came by, and snatched the resignation from my hands before his eyes scanned it.

"Ha, except for the heat." He commented with a silver grin directed to me, discarding the form thoughtlessly. "It's a shame, I was sure she was gonna stick."

"Guess you were too rough with her, Mistah J." Harley piped.

"Not rough enough." He mumbles before swatting at her ass and walking to his office.

I sit and simmer on what's just happened. She quit. And I wanted to know why.

I slam the paper on the bar and stand.

"Where ya goin'?" Harley asks me.

"I'll be right back."

 **M** y blood was boiling by the time I got to Ophelia's apartment.

I didn't even bother to knock.

My gun had a silencer on it, for this special occasion, and I shot the door nob, breaking the lock as well.

She was in the kitchen, at the stove.

"Johnny!" She barked when I pushed her to the counter, forcing her back onto the surface of it, her head hitting it with a loud thud.

She was taking heavy breaths, staring up at me as my hand laid flat on her chest, right under her collar bones.

"Why the hell did you quit? Where have you been?" I growl out and she twists her face.

"Johnny." She grits through her teeth.

"Answer my questions." I raise my brows, pulling the hammer back on the gun and she looks at me, wide eyed.

"You're being ridiculous." She closes her a eyes a moment to catch her breath and I hold the gun closer to her head. "I'm serious, stop." She shakes her head.

I act like I'm going to pull the trigger and she holds back tears.

"I was busy, and I didn't feel the need to work there anymore." She says it quickly and I glare at her.

"Busy doing what?" I ask next.

She doesn't reply.

"Charles." I say it as if it should've been obvious. I put my gun back in its holster and let her go before walking around angrily. "So you let your job go for that son of a bitch?"

"I did what I thought would be best."

"For who? You or him?" I look at her and she sits up on the counter.

"No man wants to see his girlfriend dancing on other people like her life depends on it, for a job."

"You mean he doesn't do strippers." I correct her and she shakes her head.

"Don't. Don't you dare say that."

"It's the truth. If he did, he wouldn't care about what you do for a living. And he wouldn't have given you shit about it."

"You don't know he did that."

"Oh, I sure as fuck can guarantee he at least hinted about his distaste for it."

"Why are you this interested in any of this?! It's my business what I do, with who I did it with, and what I do it for! I don't answer to you!" She shouts, hopping off the counter.

"I never fucking said you did!" I yell back.

"Then why are you here, Johnny?" She's getting frustrated, tears lining her lashes.

This is the same question I ask myself.

Why did I care this much?

"You keep telling people you don't care about me but here you are, trying to dictate what I can and can't do." She says next.

I think about her words, my lips pulling down at the thought.

We were closer than I remember when I come back to reality from my mind. I assume I moved closer to her, and she didn't dare take any steps back.

My fingers suddenly reach out to brush against her cheek and she leans into my touch, surprising me a little.

My mind clouds over, and I lean closer to her.

"Johnny," she whispers. "I'm with Charles."

This snaps me out of my dopey state, and I study her eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?" Charles' voice hits us.

 **Thank you guys for reading! I'm working on updating Wild Enthusiasm, it should be done soon. I love you guys, have a good day/night!**


	7. Chapter Six

**_Chapter 6_**

 _I'm not gonna lie and say I wasn't pissed as hell at the sight of the bastard...but I was glad he interrupted whatever the fuck I was about to do._

"Charles," Ophelia stepped to him. "You remember Mr. Frost, right?"

She looked panicked, almost as if she expected him to lose his shit and beat her. He looked at me, and nodding.

"Yes," He smiled. "Johnny, isn't it? You're J's best man."

"Yes, sir." I nod.

"Johnny was just leaving." Oppie mumbled.

"If you don't mind me asking exactly what were you doing here?"

My brows shot up and I looked at Ophelia.

"I was just checking on her." I said quickly. "I mean she quit so I was just coming to see if everything was okay."

Charles looked at me like I had just killed his best friend and he scoffed.

"She's fine. Thanks for checking." He snapped rudely. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, see our guest out." Charles kissed Oppie briefly before stepping into her bedroom to get to her bathroom.

"He's an ass." I tell her blatantly and she looks at me like she could kill me. "And I'm not his fuckin' guest. I didn't come here to see his fuckass."

"Johnny, lower your voice." She hissed.

"Lower my damn voice?!" I shout on purpose, hoping he hears it.

"Shh!" She smacked her hand over my mouth with wide, brown eyes and I chuckled. "You smell like liquor." She wrinkled her nose and snatched away, glaring at me.

"And you smell like desperation. Why the hell else would you stay with that cuck?" I asked as she grabbed her coat, about to walk me outside.

"Why is it that you refuse to let me be happy?" She laughed out without humor.

"How the fuck do I get in the way of your happiness? Since when the fuck do you need my approval in order to be happy?"

She stared at me before grabbing her phone and walking to the door.

"Come on, you're leaving. Can you drive or do I need to call Roscoe to come get you?" She asked as she walked down the hall of the apartment complex.

"I can call my own fucking car." I snapped, pulling my phone from my pocket. She ignored me and walked down the stairs. I followed her, and when we got outside, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looked down the frost adorned street.

"I don't need your approval to be happy." She spoke. "I don't need anybody's approval to be happy. But it makes things easier." She looked up at me and pursed her lip. "Why does it matter if I want your approval? It's not like it would make a difference. You turn your nose down at dancers, anyway."

"I do not—"

"If I had a dollar for every time you've made it perfectly clear you refuse to associate romantically with a 'stripper', I'd have more money than I get from shaking my bare ass for ten minutes straight." She told me and I breathed in sharply. "And my income from those ten minutes is typically over several thousand."

"Was." I correct her. "You don't work there anymore."

"Why is me dancing a problem to you? Harley said you had no problem sleeping with any of those other girls at the club but you wouldn't even look at me some nights." She looked up at me, hurt and rejection in her eyes and I sighed heavily. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No." I said and rubbed my face. "God, no. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you!" I chuckle.

"What's funny?"

"You are." I smile at her. "Taking shit so damn personal. Shit."

"How else am I supposed to take things when you go about it like you can't stand me?" She pouted slightly and I licked my lips.

"It's not that I don't like strippers." I start. "I'd take a bullet for all of those girls in that club. I love 'em. They're part of the fucked up family J's got. But I've seen a lot in this line of work. I've seen girls be on fucking cloud nine and I've seen girls kill themselves in the fucking dressing room. And it's got nothing to do with themselves. They're incredible women, but they're exposed to so much shit. So many creeps and sadistic bastards touching on them and paying them to do disgusting shit as if they aren't worth more than a piece of paper with a number and a picture of a president stamped on it. And the first few years it's good to them. They adjust and learn to love it. Well when college doesn't work out, or when they don't get to where they thought they would've been by the three year mark, they start getting reckless. J calls it the witching period. If they're still here after 3 years, they know the temporary job they got to pay for school, isn't so temporary. They're trapped. And if they don't kill each other, they kill themselves. They start drinking the bar dry, giving pussy to clients for free in the bathroom, getting sloppy with their dances, getting aggressive with the other girls, getting disrespectful to the boss, and turning to drugs and just about anything else to try to get the high they felt when they danced for the first time. I get it, though. Why they want this life. Why they want to be working for the most notorious criminal in Gotham's history. I wanted it at one point, too. It seems glamorous; the nice cars, the money, the expensive gifts, the gold and diamonds, the booze, the Adrenaline from the fast pace of it all...but in reality, we're all miserable at some fucking point. Even J." I explain to her. "He is a God To this city. They think of him and his brand, his people, as this invincible force of something they don't know how to categorize." I scoff. "They ain't seen him go on a drunken rage through the house, throwing shit, screaming and crying because Harleen, at the time, broke off their relationship in order to decide if she wanted to risk her career for him. They ain't seen him do a line of coke, down half a bottle of whiskey and ask where the hell Jeannie Napier was and lose his damn shit when he hears she died twenty years ago. They ain't seen the men and women that work for him, have their marriages torn apart from either a spouse getting killed or leaving them for being associated with The Joker. They ain't seen strippers put pistols in their mouths and blow their brains out after giving head to another stranger to try to earn a ball-sweat-soaked buck." She frowns at my words. "They ain't seen a beautiful, intelligent, talented woman waste her life on a pole for some extra cash and get caught up in the flaws of the system, and die on stage from an overdose as her boyfriend of seven years watches by the bar, and doesn't know." My voice cracks as I finish.

"Johnny." She spoke lowly and I looked down at her.

"Her name was Veronica. I met her when I was seventeen, just after I started working for J. She started when she was eighteen and the same day she got the job is when we met. And I saw her get worse and worse with every year. She had plans. To get out of Gotham and go anywhere else, she just needed some money to do it. I offered to pay for whatever it was she needed to leave, but she wanted to pay for it herself. What turned into a one year plan to save up money and go, turned into five exhausting, disappointing years and she gave up on ever getting out of here at that point. The next two years, I tried to get her to quit, to leave, something...but she wouldn't. I wouldn't break up with her. I mean, you dedicate seven years of your life to someone, you can't just walk away when they need you the most. But she started getting into drugs and I threatened to leave her. We got into it at the club in the dressing room and I stormed out. She loaded up on everything she could find, knowing it would kill her but I knew she didn't care at that point in her life. Not long after her set started, she collapsed. We all thought she had just passed out, but her heart got overworked from all of it and gave out." I finished and she bit her lip. "So, no. I'm not very fond of stripping. Or any other job that might have you associated with J."

Oppie turned completely to face me, and grabbed my chin, making me look at her.

"You are not responsible for what happened to Veronica. You loved her. I understand how you could blame yourself for it, but her death was not your fault, Johnny. Do you understand me?" Her tone was strict but compassionate and I didn't say anything for several seconds.

"Got it." I said, finally, and she stared up at me.

Her hand left my face and she tucked a piece of dark hair behind her ear and sighed.

"I gotta get back up there or Charles will get the wrong idea. Get a ride home, and I'll see you whenever." She told me, smiling softly.

 _Not gonna lie, it was a pretty fucking bitter pill to swallow when she said "see you whenever". I knew that could mean 2 weeks, or 2 years. But I didn't argue with her, I just nodded and watched as she went up the stairs of the complex and disappeared through the double doors._

 _I wouldn't have been so let down if I knew that only a few days later I'd see her again, under circumstances that weren't very good...at all._

 _Let me explain:_

 _A few days after seeing Ophelia last, I was tipsy at the club...and horny._

 _Izzy had just gotten done doing her set._

"Johnny, I need you to take this to Izzy." Alicia told me about ten minutes after Izzy went to the dressing room. An uncomfortable strain in my pants had me unfocused and I blinked at her a couple times. "I'm sorry, what?" I snapped back to reality and she put her hands on her hips, holding out a fresh water bottle from the mini fridge behind the bar. "Gggggggiiiiiiiivvvvvvveeeeee ttttthhhhhiiiiisssss tttttttoooooo Iiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzyyyyyyyy." She repeated very, very slow as if I was mentally incompetent. I snatched the water from her and she smirked. "Good boy." She patted my head and walked off.

I huffed out a sigh, looking at the bottle of water, before making my way back to the dressing room.

I knocked on the door and heard Izzy's soft voice call out, "come in!"

I opened the door, to see she was the only dancer in there at the moment. And she was naked as a Jay bird. Her hair was wet and the smell of soap lingered in the air.

"Hey," she smiled widely and I handed her the water bottle.

She must've just gotten out of the shower that was behind a door in the corner of the room.

"What'd ya think?" She asked me and I raised a brow.

"About what?"

"My set." She towel tried her hair and I kept my eyes on the ground to avoid her nakedness.

"It was good." I told her honestly. Which it was. But any man would say a beautiful girl with nice tits, grinding on a pole, wearing nothing but a g-string and heals is good.

"Good." She sighed, taking a gulp of water. Grabbing the towel she dried off with, she covered up to walk to the door and grab her robe from the hook on the back of it. "Sorry for this." She motioned to her body. "Wasn't expecting anybody to come in."

"I've seen all of you naked without wanting to before, Izzy. It's okay." I reassured her and she grinned.

"You've seen some of us naked, willingly." She pointed out and I raised my brows.

"Ha. Ha. Funny." I scoffed back, running a hand through my hair.

"So, how's Oppie?" She asked, sitting back down in the chair in front of her vanity.

The question takes me off guard and I scowl a little, her words echoing in my mind.

" _See you whenever_ ".

Bitch.

"She's Good." I tell her with a fake smile.

"Good, I miss her." Izzy brushed her fingers through her hair.

She stood up, leaning over the counter on her tip toes to see if she had a grey hair or not. Her ass stuck out a little, and it took every fucking ounce of respect I had not to look at it.

"Well," I tell her, forcing myself to the door. "I'm gonna go."

"Wait, Johnny," she turned to look at me. "Could you do me a favor?"

Shit.

"Yeah," I replied.

"I don't have a hair band and I need to put on makeup again," she told me. "Can you hold my hair out of my face?"

 _Usually when a girl asks you to help her, it doesn't result in her on her knees with your dick down her throat. I mean, I was holding her hair out of her face...so it wasn't like I wasn't doing my job, right?_

 _Anyway, we managed to do that without anyone walking in, and after the club closed for the night, I took her home and ended up on my back on her living room floor while she rode me as hard as she could._

 _We both passed out shortly after._

 _Now, I'm a trained security guard. I automatically wake up when I hear someone coming, I am made to be that way. So when I heard the door knob being twisted, and the door open, I woke up and wish I hadn't._

"Oh, shit, sorry, Izz!" I heard Ophelia pipe as she saw her naked friend on the floor. She snapped her back to us, waiting for Izzy and her one night stand to get their clothes on, I guess. She clearly hadn't seen me yet, and when Izzy started pulling her clothes on, I started doing the same.

"We're decent." Izzy told her and I dreaded her turning to see me.

"Who's the guy—" Ophelia looked confused at first, looking between us as if we'd just shot her. Hurt is obvious on her face but she masks it very well after a moment. "I was just gonna give you your shirt that I borrowed the other day back." She held up a T-shirt and then tossed it on the couch. "I gotta go." She said shortly, throwing daggers our way.

"Oppie," Izzy, stepped to her.

"It's fine. Please continue." Ophelia smiled bitterly before she looked at me. "You don't fuck strippers, though, right?"

She slammed the door when she left and I looked at Izzy before rushing after her.

"Be right back." I told her as I closed the door behind me.

"Oppie," I rush to her as she stomps down the hall of the apartment complex.

"Don't talk to me." She hissed.

"It's not like that. Me and Izzy aren't like that."

"Obviously you two are like something!" She turned to yell at me before she continued walking away.

"Ophelia, stop!" I grabbed her arm and she snatched away from me.

"What the hell do they have that I don't, Johnny?!" She asked, tears in her eyes.

Was she really about to cry over me?

"I—wh—Oppie." I furrowed my brows, confused. "What?"

"You wouldn't give me the time of day when I was available and you blamed it on not messing with strippers. But now that I have a fucking boyfriend you're suddenly okay with fucking them." She motioned to me. "What the hell do they have that I don't? Harley told me you've slept with a bunch of them. So tell me, what the hell do I have to do to be good enough for you?" Tears rolled down her cheeks and I felt a piece of my inside die.

"Ophelia," I shook my head. "Hey," I cup her face in my hands and wipe her tears. "You started dating Charles within a day of meeting him and quit your job right after. I don't want to be the bastard that breaks up a couple. But I've seriously been contemplating it ever since. I liked you before you started goin' out with him. I just didn't know how the hell to begin to tell you."

"Why not?" She asked me shakily.

"I'm not good enough." I admitted. "Those other girls, they aren't saints and I know they aren't. That's why it's so easy to fuck around with them. And sure, you've had bumps in the road but you...god, you're fucking Oppie. I hold you at the same high standard I hold Harley to. And trust me, Harley's fucking untouchable because she's just that good. I can't fuck you up." I shake my head.

"Just because I don't walk around with my business plastered to my forehead doesn't mean I haven't done some fucked up shit, Johnny. You don't get to decide what's good for me and you don't get to decide how good I am." She told me weakly. "I've thought something was wrong with me because you wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. And I would try so damn hard to impress you and get your attention and how the fuck do you express your gratitude? Having sex with my friend."

"I told you why I didn't pursue you, Ophelia."

"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with, then? Instead of you playing these games and then making me feel like I'm crazy when you avoid me!"

"I'm not good for you! I've told you I'm not so why the fuck can't you just—"

I'm cut off by her lips pressing to mine.

I can't breathe in that moment. I'm completely winded, shocked, and unapologetic when I kiss her back, backing her against the wall.

"Charles is outside." She told me breathlessly when we pulled away from each other. I glanced at the bathroom door next to us in hallway that belonged to some of the people who didn't have one in their apartment.

"He can wait a little longer." I said lowly, opening the door and she smiled, and pushed me in, closing the door behind us and locking it.

 _No. We didn't fuck._


End file.
